


Dean Winchester vs The Evil Lunch Lady

by curlybean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Teenchesters, Weechesters, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlybean/pseuds/curlybean
Summary: Ever wonder what Dean meant by his comment about evil lunch ladies?  Here’s my take on what might have sparked Dean’s first solo hunt. Tag to S7E14, Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie.
Kudos: 6





	1. On a Hunt I Go

Dean Winchester vs the Evil Lunch Lady

Chapter 1

Dean knew the truth behind what his dad did for a living. He'd known for at least five years. And he was proud of his dad. In fact, his dad was his hero. And Dean wanted to do anything he could to be like his dad.

He begged his dad to take him on hunts, but the man always said the same thing.

"You're too young, Dean."

"It's too dangerous."

"You're not trained enough yet."

And the worst one of all? "You're not a hunter yet, Dean. I need someone I can trust to watch my back."

Dean was determined to do whatever he had to do to make his dad believe that he could be a hunter. He spent extra time cleaning weapons and listening to his dad talk to other hunters about the monsters they'd hunted. He snuck peeks at his dad's journal, reading everything the man had to say about ghosts and wraiths and wendigos and skinwalkers. He even offered to help his dad with research and he hated anything that resembled any kind of school work.

His favorite thing, though, was spending time with his dad doing target practice. He was only six years old the first time he'd gone shooting with his dad. And he'd been really, really good at it. For the first time in a long time, his dad had been proud of him and Dean wanted to make sure he stayed proud.

That was a hard task, though, because more often than not, John seemed disappointed in his oldest son. Dean often felt like nothing he ever did was good enough, no matter how hard he tried. Of course, it didn't help that he really didn't like school. He knew he could get better grades if he applied himself more, having heard that a hundred times from a hundred different people. And he knew that he got himself into trouble too quickly, mostly by being impulsive and quick to anger. For a ten year old, he already had an impressive distrust of authoritative figures, thanks to the lifestyle they led.

And he definitely had a possessive streak whenever it came to his little brother. No one hurt Sammy and got away with it. Not as long as Dean Winchester was still alive.

And that's how this latest debacle came to be.

Dean and Sam were currently in their third school of the year and they both hated it there. The kids were all mean and stuck up and the teachers all acted like they hated their jobs. For the first time ever, Sam hated going to school and for some reason that made Dean really mad.

There wasn't a lot of joy in their day to day lives, but Dean knew that at least Sam usually liked school. To see his little brother unhappy and reluctant to go to school every day made Dean sad. And when Dean felt mad or sad about something, especially when it concerned his brother, things happened. And Dean usually found himself in trouble, which was nothing new.

This particular trouble started in the school cafeteria, of all places. As much as Dean loved food, the school cafeteria was never a great place to be. Depending on what school they were at, the experience could be good or not good. And at their current school, it was definitely not good.

The problem usually originated with whether or not John remembered to put money in their lunch account. Dean figured they would probably qualify for the free lunch program, but John didn't want to fill out the application since that meant their names would be in some governmental system somewhere. And it wasn't that unusual for John to forget to give them money, which meant that they missed out on lunch. Well, it meant that Dean missed out on lunch, because he always did whatever it took to make sure that Sam didn't.

Fortunately, their current school had a special program that Dean was eager to take advantage of. As a way to promote the benefits of hard work, the cafeteria team developed a program that allowed students to work for either lunch money or for "Cheetah Spots" that could be spent in the school's spirit store. Dean volunteered to work in the kitchen every single day, just to make sure that Sam got his food.

And he hated every minute of it. Giving up his recess was bad enough, but to have to spend thirty-five minutes of his day in the presence of Edna, the evil lunch lady, was almost more than he could take. If he didn't love his little brother so much, Dean wouldn't have lasted a day in her presence.

He wondered if she knew that the entire student body of West Bridge Elementary thought that she was evil. He figured that either she had absolutely no idea how they felt about her or she knew and absolutely didn't care at all what they thought. His money was on the fact that she knew and didn't care.

There was no love lost between him and Edna, either. From their very first meeting, it was obvious that the gray-haired woman, whose hair was barely kept in place with a frazzled hair net, didn't like him. Even when Dean turned on his more than impressive charm that had most older women wanting to smother him in kisses and bake him cookies.

His charm was completely lost on Edna. And after spending every lunch recess for a week with the woman, Dean was convinced that there was something weird about her. First of all, she seemed to have a strange aversion to water. Dean watched her every day, noticing how she did everything she possibly could to stay away from the large sink that held their dirty cooking utensils. She also never went near the large pots of boiling water on the stoves.

Another weird thing he noticed was the way she always wore sunglasses, even inside the school. Dean knew that there were some monsters out there that couldn't be in the sun or stand being in any sort of bright light. The fact that she never, ever took off her sunglasses definitely made him think something was going on.

And last, but not least, he'd heard her speaking in some weird language on more than one occasion. Dean knew that there were languages other than English, but he'd never heard anything remotely like the sounds that came out of her mouth. He knew they had to be inhuman. Supernatural, even.

Once he'd had enough time to study her, he moved his research into the next phase…. he talked to witnesses. Dean spent time every day talking to his classmates, getting their opinions on the woman and listening to their theories. He heard story after story about her weird behavior and her obvious dislike for all kids. He listened as his classmates explained their thoughts on her…. That she was an evil witch that wanted to eat them. That she kidnapped kids and made them into slaves. That she was a monster in disguise.

Whatever she was, Dean knew there was a case at West Bridge Elementary and he was going to take care of it. He knew he should take his concerns to his dad, but he wanted to take care of it on his own. He wanted to prove to his dad that he was ready to be a hunter. That he was trained enough. And that he could watch his dad's back on a hunt.

Phase One of Dean's plan was underway. He needed more information on what kind of monster Edna actually was, so he needed to put her through the battery of tests he'd read about in his dad's journal. That meant that he needed supplies.

John had been gone for three days, but was due home that evening. On the bus ride home, Dean told Sammy that he needed to distract their dad for a while.

"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother in confusion. He knew that his brother was up to something and he knew- even at a young age- that trying to get anything over on John Winchester was a bad idea and that it was bound to backfire tremendously.

"Don't worry about, Sammy. I just need to do something and it would be better if Dad didn't know about it."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked, knowing that John wasn't easily distracted.

"I don't know, Sammy. Tell him you don't feel good or something."

"I can't lie, Dean. Daddy always knows when I'm lying and he'll spank me."

"Fine! Then tell him that you missed him. That's not a lie, is it?"

"I did miss him."

"Okay, then…. Just do what you always do when he gets back. Stick to him and annoy him with all your stupid questions and talk."

"You're mean, Dean," Sam pouted.

Dean felt guilty, but he was desperate to do what he had to do. "Sorry, Sammy. It's just really important, okay?"

"Okay, Dean."

When they got back to the small house John had rented, Dean could hear the phone ringing before he opened the door. Once he had the door unlocked, he ushered Sam inside and ran to the phone, which stopped ringing right before he picked it up. When it didn't ring again, Dean led Sam into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. "Do you have homework?"

"I'm supposed to draw a picture of my house," Sam answered. "But I don't have a house, Dean."

Dean didn't miss the way his brother's bottom lip quivered. "Just draw a picture of this house, Sammy. That'll work, won't it?"

"But it's not our house!"

"Yeah, it is, Sammy. Dad's renting it, so it's ours for now."

Sam smiled at that and quickly pulled out his paper and pack of broken crayons. "I'm gonna draw the best picture!"

Dean watched his brother for a few seconds and then moved to make them both a snack. Once he had a plate of crackers and peanut butter, he poured them both a glass of water and sat down at the table with his brother. Sam immediately picked up a cracker and shoved it in his mouth.

"Thanks, Dean," he said with his mouth full of crackers and peanut butter. "Can I have some milk?"

"We're out of milk. Used the last of it this morning with your cereal, remember?"

"But I always drink milk with peanut butter," Sam grumbled.

"I know, Sam, but we're out. Dad'll have to buy some when he gets home."

Sam continued to pout, but his attention eventually went back to his drawing. Dean ate a few crackers, too, and then reached into his backpack to pull out his homework. He hated homework, but at least he only had a math worksheet to finish.

After they were both done with their work, Dean sent Sam into the living room to clean up. He knew how much his dad hated to come home to a mess, so he tried to keep wherever they were staying picked up as much as he could. While Sam worked on the living room, Dean rushed to clean up the kitchen, taking care of the pile of dishes in the sink and wiping down the counters. He had just finished tying up the bag of garbage when he heard the sound of the Impala pulling into the driveway.

"Sam! Dad's home!" he yelled loudly. Sam rushed into the kitchen, excitement written all over his face. Dean tabled his excitement until he saw what kind of mood his dad was in. He hoped that the hunt had gone good, so the man would be in a good mood.

"Boys?" John yelled as he opened the front door. Sam and Dean both quickly made their way to the front door.

"Daddy!" Sam yelled as he practically jumped into John's arms. Dean stood back and watched his dad, taking in the way the man winced when Sam jumped on him. It was obvious that he was injured in some way.

"Hey, Sammy. Miss me?"

"I did, Daddy! Did you miss me?"

"What do you think? Of course I missed you, kiddo." John tickled Sam's belly, making the boy burst out laughing. After a few seconds of that, he finally looked over at Dean. "Hey, Dean."

"Hi, Dad."

"The front door wasn't locked, Dean. You know better than that."

"Sorry, Dad. I, uh…. I forgot to lock it when we got home. The phone was ringing and I thought it might be you."

"No excuses, son. Locking and salting the door is more important than a phone call. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. We won't need to have to have this conversation again, will we?"

"No, sir."

"Okay, then. What do you say you let me get cleaned up a little and then we'll go get some dinner?"

John put Sam down on the floor and moved past them into the living room. Dean and Sam watched as he put his bag down on the floor and moved towards the back of the house. Once Dean heard the shower start, he decided to take advantage of the man being preoccupied and get on with his plan. "Sam, I need to go out to the Impala for a second. Watch out for Dad for me, okay? When you hear the shower shut off, let me know."

Dean didn't wait for his brother's response. Instead, he grabbed the keys out of his dad's bag and quickly made his way to the door. He knew that John's showers could last anywhere from five minutes to thirty minutes, so he had to be fast. Luckily, he knew exactly where to look for what he needed once he was in the Impala.

Looking around to make sure that no one was around, Dean ran to the Impala. He wasted no time in getting the trunk open and even less time getting to what he needed. By the time he was done, his pockets were stuffed with a flask of holy water, a container of salt, a silver knife, and a short iron bar. Without a look back, he quickly made his way back to the house just in time to hear his brother calling out to him.

Dean ran into the kitchen and moved his supplies from his pockets into the bottom of his backpack. Once he was done, he let out a deep breath and tried to settle his nerves.

John felt significantly better once his shower was done. The hunt had gone relatively well, but he was still sporting several bruises and scrapes that left his body achy and sore. The hot water worked to soothe some of those aches.

Coming home was always hard for John. Not only was he usually exhausted and hurting, he also was feeling guilty for leaving his boys alone for so long. He knew that the way he was raising Sam and Dean wasn't ideal. In fact, before his life had changed the way it had, he would have said that anyone raising their children in such a way were unfit parents. He knew they deserved better. He knew that Mary would hate the way he was raising their children. But, he didn't have a choice. Knowing about all the things that were out there- all the things that could hurt his boys- took away any choice he might have had in his life. First and foremost, he had to make sure that his boys were safe. That the monsters and evil that shared their world were never allowed to get close to his boys.

Once he was dressed, he made his way back into the living room. Sam immediately ran to his side and plastered himself up against his leg. "Hey, Sammy. You hungry?"

"I'm starving, Daddy," Sam answered.

John frowned at Sam's words. "Why are you starving? Didn't Dean give you a snack after school?" John's eyes cut over to Dean who was decidedly looking guilty about something.

"I did! He had some crackers and peanut butter, Dad."

"But I wanted milk, too," Sam pouted.

"Dean? Why didn't you get him some milk?"

Dean barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "There's none left, Dad."

"When did you run out? You know what I said about rationing things while I'm gone, Dean."

Dean felt like rolling his eyes again, but he knew better. "I made it last until this morning, Dad. I knew you'd be home tonight, so I let Sam have an extra glass with his cereal and toast."

John looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't. "Well, it looks like we need to do a little grocery shopping while we're out, don't we? Now, where do you guys want to eat?"

Dean and Sam argued over where they wanted to go. Sam wanted spaghetti, but Dean wanted a cheeseburger. In the end, Dean gave in to what Sam wanted. They were about to head out to the car when John started searching through his bag for the keys. As soon as Dean realized what his dad was doing, his stomach dropped. He'd left the keys in the Impala.

John was getting angrier by the second when he couldn't find his keys and Dean had no idea what to do. Finally, he looked up at his dad hesitantly. "Um, maybe they're, um…. maybe they're in the car?" he asked.

"I didn't leave them in the car," John answered. And then as if he was talking to himself, "Maybe they're in my pants pocket."

Dean watched as his dad made his way back to the bathroom and as soon as he was out of sight, he ran out the front door and back to the car. He found the keys hanging from the lock of the trunk, grabbed them, and rushed back into the house, entering the living room just as his dad was coming down the hall. John was surprised to find Dean standing by the door with the keys in his hand.

"Where did you find those?" he asked, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

Dean's heart fluttered as he tried to come up with an answer that would keep him out of trouble. He knew he was taking a huge chance by lying to his dad, but he didn't have a choice. Either way he'd be in trouble if his dad found out the truth. "They were hanging from the door, Dad. Still in the lock." He didn't think the man was going to believe him, especially after his comment about the door being unlocked, but after a few long seconds, John rubbed his hand over his face and took the keys from his son, motioning for the boys to head to the car.

Dean let out a sigh of relief as he climbed into the car. As he listened to Sam tell John all about what had happened while he was gone, Dean's mind moved on to the rest of his plan. With the necessary supplies safely secured in his backpack, he started to think about exactly how he was going to carry out Phase One.

Edna, the evil lunch lady, was going down.

Author's note: Once again, I started what I thought was going to be a one-shot, only to have it turned into more. Apparently, I can get a little too wordy, lol.

Anyways, I always loved Dean's little throw away comment in S7E14 (Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie) about evil lunch ladies and I've always wondered what the back story to that was. Here's my little take on it. I hope you enjoy it and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. More to come soon, I promise.

Thanks for reading. Please take care.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean spent most of Monday morning working out his plan to figure out exactly what kind of supernatural creature Edna the Evil Lunch Lady actually was. After pilfering the things he needed from his dad's weapon supply, Dean snuck it into his backpack, thankful that their current school didn't have metal detectors at the entrance like their previous one.

He knew he'd be in so much trouble if his dad ever found out what he was doing, but he had to go through with it. They weren't going to be leaving anytime soon, so he had to make sure that the school was safe for Sammy. It was his job, after all.

The morning seemed to go by so slowly, which only served to make Dean second guess everything he'd planned. He was pretty sure that his plan was foolproof, but if there was any single thing he'd learned from his dad, it was that if something could go wrong, you better expect that it will go wrong.

At the end of his reading class, his teacher asked if there were any volunteers to help out in the kitchen at lunchtime. Dean immediately raised his hand, nearly jumping in his seat with eagerness. Mrs. Oleson looked over the whole room before bringing her eyes back to Dean, who was the only one that wanted to volunteer.

"Okay, Dean…. after you put your book away, you can head down to the cafeteria."

Dean put his book in his cubby and headed over to where his backpack was. He looked over at Mrs. Oleson, hoping to find her attention anywhere but on him. He didn't need her to question why he was taking his backpack with him to the cafeteria. When he saw her talking to one of the other kids, he grabbed his backpack and scooted out the door as fast as he could.

A minute later, he was walking through the cafeteria door. He could hear Edna's voice, ordering one of her helpers to add more water to whatever was on the stove. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the door to the kitchen with his backpack slung over his back. Edna turned towards him at the sound of the door opening.

"You again?" she asked snidely.

Dean heard her mutter something else, but he couldn't make out what it was.

Dean didn't answer her, but he gave her a nod of his head. He took his backpack over to the corner and set it down on the floor. Before he stood back up, he unzipped the backpack and grabbed the small package of salt, the flask of holy water, and his knife. He stuffed them all in his pocket before turning back around.

"Let's go, young man," Edna snapped. "We don't have all day. The other children will be arriving soon and they'll be hungry."

Dean moved over to the counter and started moving the lunch trays over to the counter. He watched Edna out of the corner of his eye and at the same time kept an eye on the other helpers. He knew he'd have to be fast at carrying out his plan.

When Edna walked into the big walk-in refrigerator, Dean saw his chance. Scrambling over to the door, he quickly pulled the bag of salt out of his pocket and leaned down to pour it across the opening of the refrigerator door. He could hear Edna moving things around inside the refrigerator, so he had time to straighten up and make his way back over to the tray line.

Keeping his eye on the door, Dean waited for Edna to make her way out. If she was able to step over the salt line, his list of monsters or creatures wouldn't be narrowed down. If the salt kept her from walking out, his list narrowed quite a bit.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably less than a minute, Dean heard the sound of Edna's footsteps. He held his breath as she got closer. When she finally made it to the door, Dean watched in fascination as several things happened at once.

Just as she was stepping out of the refrigerator, her arms full of bowls of apples and oranges, Edna noticed the line of salt. Dean watched as she did some little side step maneuver, attempting to step over the salt. Instead, her step was limited by the confines of the long skirt she always seemed to wear. When her step didn't quite make it over the salt line, her shoe slid through the salt, causing her to descend into what could only be called the splits- one leg in front of her, one leg behind her.

Dean cringed at the loud sound of her skirt ripping and at the sight of the two bowls of fruit flying through the air. He cringed at the loud sound of the words that flew out of her mouth, not understanding a single word, but completely understanding the message behind the strange language.

Time seemed to slow down as several of the helpers made their way over to the woman, helping her slowly to her feet after they made sure she wasn't hurt. Once she was back on her feet, Edna looked back to the refrigerator door, taking in the large amount of salt now scattered all over.

"Where did that come from? All that salt…." Edna asked those around her. "It wasn't there when I stepped into the refrigerator."

No one seemed to have an answer for her, which only served to make her angry. Looking around at each of them, her eyes finally landed on Dean, who was doing everything he could to stay unnoticed. She looked him up and down, her eyes finally lingering on something at his waist. Dean looked down to see what she was looking at and was surprised to see that the bag he'd been carrying the salt in was hanging halfway out of his pocket.

"You!" Edna exclaimed. "What were you doing with that salt? Were you trying to make me break a leg?"

Dean tried to put his most innocent look on his face, but he wasn't sure if it was working. He pushed the bag of salt back into his pocket and tried to find the words that would get him out of the situation he was in. "Um…. the salt is…. it's for a… um, for a science project. The bag must have a hole in it or something."

Dean could tell that Edna wasn't buying his story, so he prepared himself to be sent to the principal's office. He was surprised, though, when Edna just motioned to the salt and told him to clean it up. Without wasting another second, Dean moved to clean it all up. While he did, he quickly went through his list, mentally rethinking the whole list and planning out the next phase of his test.

It was almost a week later before Dean got a chance to roll out Phase Two of his plan. Phase Two was sure to be easier that Phase One and Dean felt that he could easily pull it off without any problems. Of course, he didn't factor in the whole Winchester luck thing. If he had, he probably would have realized that the plan was doomed from the start.

Phase Two consisted of seeing if Edna was impervious to silver. Dean wasn't really sure what impervious meant, but he knew that creatures that weren't impervious to silver could be killed by it. He'd learned that from Caleb a month before. Sam told him that wasn't really what impervious meant, but Dean decided he'd rather listen to a seasoned hunter than to his geeky little brother, no matter how smart Sam was.

The problem with Phase Two, though, was finding a way to get Edna to touch real silver. Dean doubted that anything in the kitchen was actually real silver and he didn't think pulling out his own silver knife would be a good thing. Instead, he decided to take something else from his dad's arsenal in the trunk.

Dean knew that if his dad found out that he'd taken stuff out of the trunk, he'd be so mad. But he didn't really have a choice, did he? He had to protect Sammy. And if that meant putting his own butt on the line, then so be it.

So, once again, Dean volunteered to help out in the kitchen. And once again, he attempted to get Edna to fall for his plan. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out well for him, though. That Winchester luck nailed him again.

Dean successfully retrieved the silver butter knife from the back of the Impala. And he successfully placed the thing on the counter that Edna was working on. His plan was that she would realize that it was in her way and she'd reach out to move it. Once she touched it, either her skin would start to sizzle and burn, or it wouldn't. Either way, Dean would have his answer.

But Edna never reached out to move it. Dean watched closely as she moved things around on the counter as she was cutting up the apples and bananas. He watched as her hand moved closer and closer to the knife, and just when he thought she was going to pick it up and move it, she pushed it aside with the bowl that was holding the apples instead.

Once the apples and bananas were cut up, Dean waited for her to wipe down the counter, knowing that she'd have to move it then. Instead, Edna called out to Dean to wipe down the counter. He made his way over and started wiping it down, all the while trying to come up with another plan.

Unfortunately, it was almost time to start serving the food, so Dean knew he didn't have a lot of time. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so Dean decided it was time for a Hail Mary (another little tidbit he'd learned from Caleb recently).

Just minutes before the line was opened, Edna turned and started walking towards where Dean was standing. Without a second thought, Dean picked up the silver knife and lobbed it towards her, calling out her name at the same time. Edna looked at him in surprise, but didn't get her hands up in time to catch the knife. Instead, the knife hit her squarely in the nose, causing another string of weird words to spew from her mouth.

Dean noticed that the silver knife didn't make her skin burn or anything. He also noticed that she was unbelievable angry at him for throwing the knife at her, even though it wasn't really a sharp knife. Knowing that it wasn't likely that he'd be allowed to work in the kitchen again, Dean decided to go all in. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or so his Uncle Bobby always said.

Without another word or thought, Dean reached into his pocket, pulled out a small flask, opened it, and threw its contents straight into Edna's face. He watched as she sputtered and spit, surprised by the sudden gush of water that hit her in the face. He watched as she grew even angrier, her yells so loud that his ears were starting to hurt. Her face was turning a shade of red that couldn't possibly be healthy.

Before he realized what was happening, Edna had grabbed him by the arm and was marching him out of the kitchen. Dean knew they were on their way to the principal's office and he suddenly started to feel sorry for himself. Not only was he in big trouble, but he still wasn't any closer to finding out just what kind of monster Edna the evil lunch lady was.


	3. Chapter 3

John hadn't been asleep for more than an hour when the ringing telephone woke him. He had just returned from a rather exhausting and somewhat unsatisfying werewolf hunt, so having his much needed sleep interrupted by the obnoxious sound put him in an immediate bad mood.

His mood worsened even more when he realized that it was the school calling.

"Mr. Winchester, we've had a bit of an incident here and Principal Baird would like to meet with you."

"What kind of incident? Are my boys okay?" John asked immediately.

"Of course. They're both fine, Mr. Winchester."

"Then why does the principal want to talk to me."

"Well, it seems that Dean got himself into a little bit of trouble."

John couldn't contain the groan that escaped him. "What happened?" he asked.

"Mr. Winchester, it's a bit of a long story and it would probably be better discussed in person. Would you be able to come in for a meeting?"

John groaned again as he rolled out of bed. "Give me thirty minutes," he grumbled before hanging up the phone.

Twenty-five minutes later, he walked through the door to the school office, immediately noticing Dean sitting miserably on a bench along the wall. Dean's eyes instantly jumped up at the sound of his father's footsteps entering the room, a sound he was very familiar with.

John's eyes slid over his son, making sure he was okay, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he walked up to the desk, introducing himself to the principal's assistant.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Winchester. Let me tell Principal Baird that you're here."

John watched as the secretary got up and left her desk, only to return half a minute later. "Principal Baird will see you now. Just follow me, please. You, too, Dean."

Dean stood up and made his way over to follow the secretary. He could feel his dad's eyes on him the whole time and he quickly straightened up, knowing what was expected of him. John waited until Dean had walked past and then followed through behind him.

Once inside the small office, John stepped forward, introducing himself to the much smaller man sitting behind the desk. Once introductions were made, Principal Baird motioned for John and Dean to have a seat in the chairs in front of his desk.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Winchester. I have to admit, I'm at a loss, here. I have no idea what to make of all of this."

"Maybe you can just start by telling me what happened. What did Dean do?" John asked, wanting to just get to the point, deal with it, and get back to bed.

"Well, it seems like…..well… Okay, I'm just going to tell you exactly what happened. There was an incident in the lunch room today, involving your son and one of our cafeteria employees. For some reason, Dean threw a knife at her and then threw water in her face."

"He threw a knife at her?"

"Yes. According to Mrs. Geller, they were in the process of getting ready to serve lunch when Dean suddenly called her name and threw the knife at her. The knife- which fortunately was just a butter knife- hit her in the nose. Before she could do anything, he threw water in her face, as well."

John looked over at Dean, who was suddenly finding the hole in the knee of his jeans awfully interesting. John cleared his throat and Dean's eyes immediately shot up.

"Dean? What the hell were you thinking? You threw a knife at someone?"

"It was just a butter knife, Dad. And I just sorta lobbed it at her. Not like a real knife throw."

"Why would you do something like that, Dean?" John asked, incredulously.

"I don't know," Dean answered, not knowing exactly how to answer without giving away the real reason for his actions.

"You don't know? How the hell do you not know why you chose to do something like that?!"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, even though he knew that wasn't ever an acceptable answer for his father.

"And the water? Why did you throw water in her face?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, knowing that he was pressing his luck beyond belief. And being a Winchester, he didn't have a whole lot of luck to begin with it.

"There has to be more to the story than this," John said as he turned to face the principal. Did Mrs. Geller have anything more to say on the matter? Did something happen before Dean threw the knife at her?"

"No. According to Mrs. Geller, everything was normal. Dean is a frequent helper in the cafeteria, and other than the salt incident last week, she said there's never been any trouble."

"Salt incident?"

"Apparently, Dean spilled a bunch of salt and Mrs. Geller slipped on it. She wasn't hurt, although her skirt ripped quite a bit."

John looked over at Dean, starting to see his son's actions for what they were. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door. When the door opened, John looked up to see an older lady with gray hair covered by a hair net and a long knit skirt standing in the doorway. He thought it odd that she was wearing tinted glasses inside.

"Mr. Winchester, this is Mrs. Geller. I asked her to join us to discuss the morning's events."

John stood up and shook the woman's hand. He also motioned for her to take his vacated seat. Mrs. Geller threw a strange look at Dean, who was suddenly studying his knee again. Once she was sitting down, John ran a hand over his face and moved to stand behind Dean's chair. He was trying to figure out a way to explain his son's strange behavior without risking more questions.

"I think I know what's going on here," he said with a laugh. Dean could tell that it wasn't a genuine laugh, but he had no idea what his dad was up to. "Dean and his brother spent the weekend with their cousin. Caleb has a pretty vivid imagination and he likes to tell the boys stories about werewolves and vampires and things. I'm guessing the butter knife Dean threw was a silver one?"

Principal Baird opened up one of his desk drawers and pulled out the knife. John instantly recognized the scratched up knife as one from his weapons bag.

"This is all just a misunderstanding, I think," he said. "I have no idea what made Dean do this, but I'll definitely make sure he never does something like it again."

Principal Baird wasn't quite ready to let it all go, despite his belief that the man standing in front of him would definitely make sure to handle things at home. "I think Mrs. Geller deserves an answer, Dean. Can you please explain why you chose to do this?"

Dean looked up at his dad, who gave him a small nod of the head. He knew he needed to tread carefully, but at least his dad had already paved the way a bit. "I, uh… I thought she was a monster."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Edna Geller said. "What did I do to give you that idea?"

Dean looked up at his dad again before answering. "Um….. you always….well, you always wear sunglasses inside and Caleb said that some monsters have a….. um, a, uh.… that some monsters don't like the light. And you never go near water, either."

"Anything else?" Edna asked with a smirk. Dean didn't know, but she was trying not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of what the boy was saying.

"Um…,, you speak a weird language sometimes…."

"I what?" Edna looked at Dean in confusion.

"It's not always, just sometimes you say something in a different language. It sounds weird."

John and Principal Baird both looked over at Edna, waiting for an answer.

Edna started laughing and wasn't sure if she could stop. She looked over at Dean, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was at the moment. Edna knew that the kids of the school talked about her and that there were rumors going around about her, but she didn't care. She was there to do a job and that's what she did.

Truth be told, she liked Dean. He seemed to have a lot more spirit than most of the kids that came into the kitchen to help her. And she was often drawn in by his natural charm, even if she fought hard not to be. There was a part of her that wanted to mother (or maybe grandmother, was more like it) the poor boy with the too short jeans and threadbare t-shirts, especially seeing him now.

"Yiddish," she finally said.

"What?" John looked at her like he didn't understand what she said.

"Yiddish. I speak Yiddish sometimes, without even realizing it. It usually happens when I'm mad or stressed."

The three adults in the room started laughing, all three knowing how weird the Yiddish language would sound to a child. Before any of them could continue, Dean finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know and all the other kids said….." Dean stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to continue.

"I know what the kids say about me, Dean. The problem is that none of them are brave enough or creative enough to find out what's true and what's not true. Although, I'd rather you hadn't thrown a knife at me."

"I'm sorry for making you rip your skirt, too," Dean said quietly.

"That was you, too? I thought you said the salt spilled out of your pocket."

"Sorry…" he repeated.

"Well, I should get back to the kitchen and finish prepping tomorrow's lunch. Can I expect your help tomorrow, Dean?"

Dean looked up at Edna in surprise. "You want me to come back?"

"Of course, I do. Those potatoes aren't going to peel themselves. And since you seem to carry a bag of salt in your pocket, they'll be well-seasoned, if you're there. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean answered with a small smile.

Once the lunch lady left, John turned back to the principal. "So, what now?"

Principal Baird looked between Dean and John. "As you're aware from reading the school's handbook, weapons of any kind are not allowed on school property. With that being said, Dean will need to be punished for bringing the knife to school, as well as for his hijinks that resulted in Mrs. Geller's nose being bruised."

"And what type of punishment are we talking about?"

"Well, I'm going to give a few options. Dean can either be suspended from school the rest of this week or he can serve In School Suspension for two weeks."

"In School Suspension?"

"That means he'll serve his lunch and recesses in detention for two weeks. And I think it's appropriate that his lunchtime detention be spent with Mrs. Geller."

"Dean will do the In School Suspension," John answered quickly.

"Very well. And Dean, I think an apology letter to Mrs. Geller would be appropriate, too, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well," he said again. "Then I think we're done here. Dean, you can head back to class. Unless you want to take him home with you, Mr. Winchester."

"He can go back to class." John nudged Dean's shoulder and the boy quickly stood up. "We'll be discussing this when you get home, Dean. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Dean knew exactly what that "discussion" was going to involve and he dreaded going home to face his father. With another quiet apology to Principal Baird and a side glance to his dad, he turned and left the room.

John started to leave, too, but he suddenly turned back to the man sitting behind the desk. "Before I leave, I need to know one thing. What's with Mrs. Geller wearing the sunglasses inside?"

Principal Baird laughed. "Edna takes medication that makes her eyes sensitive to light. That's all it is."

"And her aversion to water?"

"Sensitive skin. She just lets her helpers deal with the cleanup stuff. Trust me, she's only a monster when something burns in her kitchen."

John laughed at that. "Well, I'll be having a talk with Dean. He won't pull any crap like this again, trust me."

John and the principal shook hands. Once John was out the door, Principal Baird couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Dean having to face his dad once he got home. The man was definitely intimidating.

The last two hours went by way too fast for Dean. As he tried to pay attention to what his teacher was saying, his mind kept wandering to what was waiting for him once he got home. He knew his dad was angry that he had taken the knife from his weapons bag. He knew that he was angry that Dean had decided to "hunt" on his own. And he knew that the man was probably angry that he'd been caught.

Once the last bell rang, Dean rushed to get to Sam's classroom. There were a few boys in Sam's class that liked to pick on anyone smaller than them, so Dean wanted to make sure they didn't get the chance to pick on his little brother.

"Dean! Guess what? I got a perfect score on my spelling test. I was the only one in the class to get all the words right!"

"Good job, Sammy," Dean said, giving his brother a high-five.

"And I got to be Miss Christian's helper today, too. She let me rearrange all the books on the shelf."

Dean laughed at his brother's enthusiasm. "I bet you thought that was fun, didn't you?" he asked.

"It was fun!"

"Doesn't sound like fun to me," Dean laughed. "Unless you were rearranging them into a tall tower or something."

"No. I rearranged them by title and author, Dean. Just like they do in the library." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "Hey, did you hear what happened today?"

Dean looked down at his brother, dreading what he was going to say next. "Something happened?"

"Yeah. You know Edna, the evil lunch lady? Someone threw a knife at her and stabbed her in the nose. There was blood everywhere!"

"No there wasn't," Dean growled.

"That's what I heard, Dean. Shawna's sister was there when it happened. She said this kid threw the knife at her for no reason and it was sticking out of the tip of her nose. She said there was so much blood that they had to call an ambulance."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's not what happened, Sammy. Shawna's sister lied."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

Dean tried to think of a way of getting out of telling his brother what really happened, but quickly realized that it didn't matter. Sam would find out as soon as they got home anyway. "I know because I was there, Sam."

"You were there? You saw someone throw a knife at her?"

Dean rolled his eyes again. "I threw the knife at her, Sam. And it didn't stick her in the nose. It just bounced off. And there wasn't any blood."

"Why would you do that, Dean?"

Dean stopped walking and looked down at his brother. "Because. Everyone said she was a monster and I thought…. Well, I thought she was, too. So, I was testing her to see if she was."

"Testing her how?" Sam asked.

"It doesn't matter, Sam. What matters is that she's not a monster at all. She's actually kinda nice."

"Really? She doesn't seem very nice. She's always wearing those sunglasses, but I still feel like she's staring at me. It's creepy, Dean."

"Trust me, Sammy. She won't ever hurt you. I promise."

"Okay, Dean." They started walking again. They walked for several minutes before Sam suddenly stopped. "Did you get in trouble for throwing a knife at her, Dean?"

"Yeah. I got In School Suspension for two weeks and I have to write her a letter to say I'm sorry."

"I can help you with that, Dean. I'm a good speller, remember?"

"Yeah, Sammy. I remember."

Sam looked up at his brother, his eyes huge in his small face. "Daddy's gonna be mad if he finds out, Dean. You got suspended! And you were playing with a knife! You're not supposed to do that, remember?"

"Dad already knows," Dean answered sadly. He was suddenly starting to feel even sorrier for himself after hearing Sam's words. "He came to school after it happened."

"Was he mad?"

"What do you think, Sammy? Of course, he's mad."

Sam stopped walking again. "I don't want to go home, Dean. I don't like it when Daddy's mad."

"It'll be okay, Sam. Just go on to our room when we get there, okay? That way you won't have to hear Dad yell at me."

Sam looked up at his brother, worry and sadness evident in his eyes. "Okay, Dean," he said quietly.

Fifteen minutes later, they stood outside the apartment door. Dean took several deep breaths before turning the door handle. Once inside, he ushered his brother towards the bedroom they shared. He wasn't ready to face his father yet, so he went into the room with Sam. He was just about to close the door when he heard his name being called from the living room.

"Stay here, Sammy. Okay? Work on your homework."

Sam nodded his head and watched sadly as Dean left the room.

Dean entered the living room to find his dad standing at the window, holding a beer in one hand. John slowly turned around to look at his son. "Sit down," he said, motioning towards the worn sofa. Dean quickly made his way to sit down, not wanting to take any chances in making his dad even angrier.

Once he was sitting down, John moved over to stand in front of him. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean? You got into my stuff and took a knife to school? And you literally threw it at someone? Damn it, boy! Have you no common sense?"

Dean didn't really know what to say to that so he kept his mouth shut.

"Explain yourself," John growled.

Dean knew better than to hesitate when his father used that voice. "All the kids at school said that she was a monster, Dad."

"And that's all it took to make you believe them?"

"No, sir. I just…. I thought that…. Dad, she wears sunglasses all the time. And I didn't know she was speaking an actual language. She sounded so weird sometimes. Like a monster."

"So you decided to take it upon yourself to do a little research."

"Yes, sir. I poured some salt around her to see if she could cross it. And then I tried to see if she was burned by silver. When none of that worked, I threw some holy water on her."

There was a part of John that wanted to laugh at the idea of Dean doing all that, but he didn't. Dean's actions were dangerous and could've exposed them unnecessarily. He'd gone into a "hunt" with half-baked ideas and executed those ideas very poorly. He'd been caught, too. No, John was determined to make sure that Dean learned a very valuable lesson with all this.

"We have a big problem here, Dean. First of all, if you ever suspect that something isn't as it should be, I expect you to come to me. I don't want you ever taking matters into your own hands again, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Second, don't ever get into my weapons bag without my permission again. There are dangerous things in there and you have no right to go digging through it. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, what you did today was very dangerous. You could've exposed this family to people who would never understand what we do. That could've been really bad. And what if Mrs. Geller had actually turned out to be a monster? Did you have a plan for if that happened?"

"No. sir."

"You could've been hurt, Dean. Other people could've been hurt, too. If she had been a monster, she could've caused a lot of damage. You never go into a hunt without having a good idea of what you're facing and how to take care of it. Never. Understand?"

Dean nodded.

"I'm disappointed in you, Dean." John didn't miss the way his son's eyes immediately filled with tears at those words. "I thought I taught you better than this, but apparently not."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean said miserably. "I was going to talk to you about it, but you were so busy. And I thought I could handle it."

"I'm never too busy to listen to you or your brother, Dean," John answered. He wondered if Dean believed he was telling the truth. He wondered if he himself believed it, to be honest. "If you have a problem, you come to me first. You don't try to take matters into your own hands, especially if it involves the supernatural. You know that."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. You're grounded. Two weeks, Dean. No television, no radio. Bedtime is an hour earlier and I'm tacking on extra chores and training. I want you to think twice next time something like this comes up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're lucky I'm not taking you over my knee, boy. I expect better from you."

Dean looked up at his dad just as the first tear escaped his eye. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"I know you didn't, kiddo. You just need to stop and think about what you're doing next time. And trust me, if there ever is a next time, I won't go so easy on you. Now, go on and take care of any homework you might have. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

Dean jumped up and headed towards his room, eager to put everything behind him as much as he could. He knew his little brother was waiting to find out how much trouble he was in and he wanted to put him at ease.

He also suddenly wanted to make sure that Sam knew that Edna wasn't an evil lunch lady, after all.


End file.
